


That Awkward Moment When....

by Berettasalts



Category: Pokemon, Supernatural, mild yugioh
Genre: (mild and non-explicit), Bestiality, M/M, bonus castiel cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berettasalts/pseuds/Berettasalts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suck at summaries. It's a damned Supernatural/Pokemon!AU with hints of Yugioh because I can, shut up. Dean is a Pokemon trainer. Sam is a Pokemon. What can I say? There’s a sad lack of anthropomorphic Wincest fic out there. Sam is an Arcanine, because it’s Sam. Of course he is. Also, spot the Castiel.</p><p><b>Contains mild bestiality,</b> anthropomorphism and human/pokemon relations, and sort-of-not-really-kinda incest, so I guess I hit the trifecta. Go me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Awkward Moment When....

The Saffron Gym was surprisingly minimalistic, and a change from Dean’s experience in Humilau. He much preferred the more conservative gyms, though in spite of the difficult Water-type opponents he’d faced there - a challenge that his most trusted creatures had risen to beautifully - he’d still enjoyed himself greatly. His military childhood, while in no way spectacular, had prepared him for the hard life of a Pokemon trainer, which required travelling deep into forests and across dangerous mountain passes, even through volcanos in search of the rarest and most valuable breeds. It was a lifestyle that suited Dean, who always travelled light and required very little besides food and a place to sleep. He counted himself lucky whenever he found himself in a city that offered free lodging for trainers - not that he was above conning his way into a feather bed if he absolutely had to.

Dean wasn’t sure he was allowed to be next to the arena like this, but he didn’t much care. It was common sense to get to know the patterns and fighting styles of your opponents, as well as their strengths and strategies. He had no idea what to expect from the Saffron trainers, but they were rumoured to possess some extremely powerful Psychic types. Fortunately, Dean had an ace this time around that he hadn’t in Humilau.

Speak of the devil. Dean wasn’t surprised when he felt the silent appearance of another beside him, though he’d been alone just a moment ago. Based on the amount of heat radiating from the body, he didn’t have to look to take an educated guess at who (what) it was. He tapped the fingers of one crossed arm on his left bicep and did so anyway.

“One of these days, I’m gonna find that rich douchebag who runs Kaiba Corp and kick his ass,” he commented dryly. “Even their Master Balls ain’t worth shit anymore.”

“Arcanine,” said the creature agreeably. Dean favored him with an eyeroll.

“I know you think you’re funny, but dude, English.”

There was a shrug from beside him. “I’m too powerful anymore to be contained.”

That, Dean thought, was true. This particular creature, his strongest by far, was a fire-type Arcanine, a Legendary Pokemon on it’s own, but one that had evolved well past Dean’s wildest expectations. Not only did this particular Arcanine possess the power of speech, and telepathy to some degree, but he could also shapeshift - though the creature he shifted into was some anthropomorphic twist that fell somewhere between human and it’s true form. He was, without a doubt, one of the strongest, and _smartest_ Pokemon in existence - rival even to the elusive God Monsters, one of which was reportedly owned by Seto Kaiba himself. Or at least, Dean thought he might be by now. How his Arcanine would fare in a battle against the strongest Pokemon in existence, he had no idea; but that was why he was here. His creature was very single-minded, unusually focused and driven to succeed, in a way that almost scared Dean sometimes. He could also be kind, gentle even, but in the field he was no one to be trifled with.

Dean had named him Sam. He wasn’t sure why. He’d been told that his mother, long gone, had miscarried a little brother when Dean was four, and he remembered that his father had once told him they were going to name the baby Sam. And while it was widely thought that Pokemon were base and simple creatures, who had no souls (Dean had to wonder, with the icy way this one’s green eyes looked at him sometimes), anything with the cognitive ability to form sentient speech should at least have a name to call himself by.

“The tactics used by these Psychic trainers are glaringly predictable,” said the Arcanine, his speech pattern characteristically emotionless. “Even more so than the Water creatures in Humilau.”

Dean huffed. “I should have known you’d be watching that show. I told you to stay out of sight.”

Sam raised one eyebrow at him. His human form was tall, and lithe - quite a bit taller than Dean, actually. Dean almost wished he would return to the four-legged animal form, which he found strangely less intimidating - except that Sam claimed it was more difficult for him to form speech that way.

“You should have let me fight.”

“It was a _Water-type_ gym. You’re a Fire-type. It’s basic common sense.”

“I could have taken them.”

Dean made a frustrated sound. There was no reasoning with Sam’s placid stubbornness. Since his latest evolution he had yet to be defeated, and it had gone to his head - he was utterly convinced he could take on any opponent at all and win.

“I’m not going to just whip you out as my trump card in every arena,” Dean said in his own defense. “I have other creatures who need the practice. And my Electabuzz destroyed that Lumineon in the final round, anyway.”

Sam said nothing, but Dean felt his displeasure. He shook his head. It wasn’t unusual for trainers to be possessive of their Pokemon, but he had never known it to work in reverse before - good trainers inspired loyalty, and taught their creatures to work together. He had no idea what this unnerving dynamic that had developed between them meant for their future.

He felt Sam’s arm snake around him, and stiffened. Dean looked around a bit wildly, hoping he wasn’t about to be discovered. He knew there were whispered rumours of his presence here - that was the unavoidable consequence of owning a creature as famous as Sam. As far as Dean knew, there weren’t any other anthropomorphic Pokemon in existence, even though some could communicate through telepathy. The attention made him uncomfortable. He didn’t exactly want to be seen, and people were likely to remember seeing Sam.

“Would you stop that?” he snapped, unwinding himself and putting space between them. “Not in public, I told you.”

“Why?” Dean couldn’t decide if Sam’s tone was actually irritated, or if he was imagining emotions in this emotionless void of a Pokemon.

“Because I’m trying to watch this battle, so I can decide how to beat that dude in the trenchcoat.”

Sam sent a dispassionate glance in the direction of the arena.

“His Malamar isn’t _that_ strong.”

“The Mightyena could be a problem.”

Sam made a scoffing noise.

“Don’t look at me, Growlie, you had your ass beat by one of those in Viridian City.”

“I was _new_ ,” Sam bit out, unintentionally living up to his old nickname. “And I told you not to call me that anymore.”

“You’ll always be Growlie to me,” Dean said with affection, reaching up to scratch one of Sam’s pointed ears. In spite of himself, Sam made a purring sound in his throat.

“What about Sammy? Can I call you that instead?”

Sam sighed mightily. Against his better judgement, Dean let his own arm slide around Sam’s waist, feeling suddenly lascivious. His Arcanine stiffened in surprise, but relaxed under Dean’s hand. He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. Sam was unusually attuned to Dean’s scent, though that was hardly surprising for his species. He dipped his head and inhaled, close to Dean’s ear.

“We have an hour before we’re due for our first match,” Sam breathed, his fur tickling the side of Dean’s face. Dean knew he was scruffy in comparison, and in dire need of a shave. Sam’s hair, by comparison, was always stupid soft. The asshole.

Dean understood the implicit invitation, and nodded. It was no use arguing, anyway (and to be honest, a bit of stress relief would do him some good). Sam vanished, presumably returning to his ineffectual Master Ball, which Dean pocketed with one last look towards trenchcoat-dude. He would never admit it to Sam, but the guy was actually not bad-looking, either.

He sweet-talked the receptionist into letting him in early, after clearing that his room was prepared and ready for his use. He barely noticed the austere appointments or the fresh tatami mats on the floor, to be honest, because Sam gave him no warning at all before shoving him down on the futon. Dean hoped these paper walls were more soundproof than they appeared to be, though his expectations weren’t high.

He found himself not caring as Sam stripped his clothing efficiently, using his sharp teeth on Dean’s shirt with permission after a thwap across the head for trying to tear his favourite leather jacket. Sam’s body was damned hot, and his mouth even hotter still. Dean arched his back and almost levitated off the bed, biting down on the back of his hand to keep from crying out. Sam was damned good at this, and always was. Perhaps it was a bit strange, this relationship they had, maybe even perverse. He knew it would be frowned upon, were they ever to come out to the community as a whole, but Dean had no intention of ever doing that. He’d never been one for rules and as far as he was concerned, what went on between him and his favourite creature was no one’s damned business but theirs, anyway.

Sam swallowed him down, minding his teeth, fingers tapping at the space between his legs, pushing them wider impatiently, and used his fingers (coated in some sticky substance he must have grabbed without Dean’s notice) to stretch and prepare him, gentle but still businesslike. When Dean had been reduced to a boneless, quivering mass below him, Sam rose up and sheathed himself fully, green tiger eyes blazing down at him. The striped orange on his features emphasized his natural beauty, and sometimes Dean thought he saw tenderness there. Sam set a quick and merciless pace, pushing him into the bed with each pound, and it sent sparks shooting through Dean’s entire body, building, building - almost, so close - so close - damnit, if Sam would just -

~

Dean’s familiar phone alarm dragged him back into consciousness. He must have come _hard_ to have blacked out like that, because the last few ecstatic moments were as fuzzy as old polaroids in his brain. An orgasm like that, you’d think he would remember, Dean noted wistfully.

His phone was on the desk across the room (because of course it was) and looking at him from over by the window was Sam - who stank to high heaven and had evidently just returned from a morning run. It was Sam - and yet, not. Or it was. Dean rubbed his head and sat up, taking a moment to filter out reality from his very lucid dream.

That had been… _weird_. Dean glanced down at himself and quickly shifted his legs, hoping to God he hadn’t been too obvious or said anything too embarrassing. That stupid kid and his apparently haunted console games.

He was never telling Sam about this one. _Never._

Sam, on the other hand, was smirking at him like he already knew. “Good dream, or what?”

Dean’s filthy look answered the question for him, and Sam held up his hands in a gesture of truce, though he was still grinning. Dean fell back on the bed again with a groan. “What time is it?”

“Eightish. We gotta hit the road by eleven, but I might have found another case nearby. It’s close to Palo Alto, just south of the city.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eager for anything even remotely resembling a distraction, Dean sat up again with interest. “What about?”

“Some kind of creature, looks like. Could be our thing, but maybe not. Rumor is that something escaped from a government lab. Initially created for zoological and genetic research; top-secret, FBI-level security.” Sam shuffled a few papers on the table and frowned. ”says here the lab is owned by the Kaiba Corporation.”

“I’m sorry, I, uh, had a mild hallucination and missed that last part. Owned by _who?_ ”

“Kaiba Corporation,” Sam repeated, and rolled his eyes at Dean’s baffled look. “Dude, I know you’re a stone age relic but there’s no _way_ you’re that clueless. Seto Kaiba? Japanese billiionaire? He took over his father’s company when he was sixteen and levelled their military R &D building, now the company is the world leader in developing high-tech trainer gear, gym technology, and - “

Dean’s eyes snapped open.

**Author's Note:**

> Admit it, Dean living the spartan lifestyle of a Pokemon trainer and Sam as a stupid powerful pokemon is eerily accurate and fitting. You're welcome.


End file.
